


trust, a beautiful thing

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt bottoms for the first time with Jaskier, It's stupidly emotional, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22669657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: 4 times geralt fucks jaskier and 1 time he doesn’t
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 730





	trust, a beautiful thing

**Author's Note:**

> pure smut but with some Feelings
> 
> twitter: queermight  
> tumblr: korrmin

**1.**

Geralt loved the feeling of Jaskier, his lovely little songbird, squirming underneath him, gasping and clawing at his back with blunt fingernails. It was the most exhilarating feeling in the world - fighting monsters, almost dying, saving the day, none of it compared to the high he got when he was buried, deep, inside Jaskier.

Because Jaskier was _perfect_. 

And he _knew_ Geralt loved hearing him, so he whined and begged like the perfect bed partner, pressing his face against Geralt’s shoulder and sobbing for _more, more, Geralt, please, Gods–_

He always knew when Geralt was nearing the edge, too, and would clench around him. Because _fuck_ , he knew Geralt was weak against the tight, hot heat of his body and that would always be the end of him.

Thankfully, he was a Witcher and human ailments weren’t a worry for him.

So they had no qualms about letting Geralt come deep inside him, buried to the hilt, filling him up. Jaskier clawed helplessly at his back, throwing his head back and Geralt buried his face in the crook of his perfect neck, sucking and licking and biting.

He always left marks. Jaskier always teased him for it. 

But Geralt loved knowing that, even after, there was no denying Jaskier belonged to him, deep dark marks littered across his neck, his shoulders, and other places, too, that strangers would never know about, like his smooth thighs and lovely hips. 

**2.**

Sometimes sex between them was wild and rough and they would crash, literally, in bed together, clawing at each other’s clothes like wild animals. But it wasn’t always like that.

Jaskier had been shocked the first time Geralt really slowed down, taking him apart with his fingers, his mouth, his _tongue_. 

Gods, Jaskier went lightheaded when Geralt pushed his legs up and ducked down, pressing his tongue against his hole. Jaskier had been with many men (and women) but none of them had ever done _that_.

He was slow about it, meticulous.

Jaskier loved and hated every second of it, trembling and yanking on Geralt’s hair, pleading helplessly. “Geralt, Ger - I can’t, _please_.”

“Patience, little one,” Geralt had said, pulling back and pressing a soft kiss to one of Jaskier’s thighs. “You’ll be satisfied soon enough.”

Geralt was many things but he was not a liar. A few minutes later, he was positioning himself, pressing the tip of his cock (which Jaskier always joked was inhumanly big, but it wasn’t _really_ a joke) against his opening, eyes dark.

Finally, satisfied, Jaskier grabbed Geralt by the face and kissed him.

**3.**

One of Geralt’s favorite positions was Jaskier on top; hands sprawled across Geralt’s broad chest, he would ride him like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, head thrown back, moaning.

He would moan like a whore and Geralt never knew if it was real or if the damned bard just knew he liked it. 

He wasn’t complaining, of course. Growling, he sat up and nipped at Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier whimpered, dragging his nails down Geralt’s back. Sometimes he left marks but normally they healed far too quickly for Geralt’s liking.

The benefits of being a Witcher were sometimes disappointing.

Geralt knew Jaskier’s weak spots by now; they’d been doing this for almost seven months. He was an expert on the bard’s body and he was proud of it. Leaning down, he pressed his tongue, flat, against one of Jaskier’s nipples and the bard, predictably, let out a sob.

Like the air had been punched out of him.

Geralt smirked, pleased, and took his nipple between his teeth, tugging.

Jaskier clawed at his back, hard, shuddering like he was in pain. Geralt knew better; he had _learned_ better after the fifth or so time he’d stopped during sex to check on him and Jaskier had stared at him like he was crazy.

“ _Harder_ ,” he pleaded, his eyes black with lust, pupils blown wide.

Geralt was never one to say no to his favorite little lark.

**4.**

Soft and slow. Geralt had never really considered sex to be something romantic.

But like in many ways, Jaskier was changing his view on the world. They were curled together on the forest floor, moving in sync, slow thrusts of Geralt’s hips. Jaskier had his face buried in Geralt’s shoulder, letting out soft mewls that went straight to Geralt’s cock.

“I - fuck,” Geralt breathed against Jaskier’s hair. “ _Jaskier_.”

Jaskier almost sobbed, kissing Geralt’s shoulder. “I know,” he agreed. Because words were still hard for Geralt sometimes but Jaskier always knew what he was trying to say, always respected that he wasn’t ready to say the words yet.

Geralt ran his fingertips down Jaskier’s sweat-slick back and wondered, not for the first time, how he had gotten so lucky. He’d made so many mistakes and yet the universe had still blessed him with Jaskier.

He would never take him for granted again.

**5.**

Geralt had been with many men (and women) but he’d never really been particularly fond of being on the bottom. He didn’t mind it; it felt _good_ but it also required a certain level of trust he’d never shared with another man.

Until Jaskier.

Because in so many ways Jaskier was a first, always teaching Geralt new things and making him _feel_ new things.

Jaskier straddled him, a wicked grin on his face.

“Wait,” he said, placing a heavy hand on Jaskier’s thigh. “I was thinking…”

Jaskier peered down at him, rocking in his lap and _oh_ , Geralt almost threw the whole idea out the window. But he’d been thinking about it for weeks and he _wanted_ it he realized with an almost startling clarity.

He wanted to be under Jaskier, feel him _deep_.

“I was thinking,” Geralt started again, swallowing, “you could fuck _me_.”

Jaskier let out a surprised gasp, stilling in his lap. “ _What?_ ” he asked.

Geralt rubbed his thumb into the dip of Jaskier’s hip, one of his favorite places to worship. “You don’t have to,” he said roughly, emotion seeping through that he would normally be ashamed of but this was Jaskier and he trusted him, even if trust went against everything he’d believed in for so long.

“Um, I - I definitely want to,” he replied quickly, searching his face. “Do you?”

Geralt smiled for the briefest of seconds. “I do,” he said. “Just - go slow, okay?”

Jaskier groaned like Geralt had said something particularly sexy. (He hadn’t.) Rolling off him, he reached for the oil and patted Geralt’s thigh. Geralt knew what he wanted, spreading his legs.

It was a vulnerable position but he felt oddly safe as Jaskier settled between his legs. He opened the vial of lube and smothered his fingers in them. Geralt almost snorted, entirely fond, as Jaskier leaned up to kiss him, slow and deep.

It was a distraction, he knew, as he felt the tip of one of Jaskier’s fingers touching him. 

It’d been so long but Geralt’s body opened up without much of a fight, anyway, accepting Jaskier’s finger and a second and a third until he was shuddering, feeling warm all over.

He rarely sweated - it was a Witcher thing, he supposed - but he could feel his hair sticking to him.

Jaskier smiled and reached up with his other hand, brushing some sweat-slick hair away from his forehead. “Hey there,” he whispered, meeting his eyes. 

Geralt’s lips twitched, almost a smile.

“You sure you want to do this?” Jaskier asked even as he trembled with anticipation. 

Geralt nodded, not trusting his voice. He had no doubts. 

Kissing him again, Jaskier positioned his cock, not very thick but long, at Geralt’s hole, waiting for a second before he pressed in, slow.

Geralt knew now why Jaskier always clawed at his back; it was all he wanted to do - all he could think to do - as Jaskier entered him, inch by inch.

Once he had bottomed out, fully buried in him, Jaskier rubbed their noses together. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, “this is - _different_.” But he didn’t sound disappointed, so Geralt didn’t linger on the comment for too long.

Jaskier fucked him slow and gentle, like Geralt was something precious.

It was ridiculous and really fucking _endearing_. 

Afterwards, they laid together, holding each other. Jaskier sighed.

“That was… _incredible_ ,” he said and Geralt tensed, rubbing his back. He wondered if perhaps Jaskier had preferred this to their usual endeavors. Jaskier could read his mind, he swore, because he wiggled closer and kissed his shoulder. “But I personally prefer our usual way of doing things.”

Geralt relaxed a little. “But maybe we could do this every once in a while.”

Jaskier peered up at him with bright, loving eyes and Geralt wondered what he saw in him. Jaskier could have his pick of men or women but he was loyal, never straying far from Geralt’s side. “I’d like that,” he said, a low whisper. 

Geralt leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Me too.”


End file.
